


your dreams are alive (and they've come to claim their debts)

by pyblos



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyblos/pseuds/pyblos
Summary: just a bunch of one shots of your favourite volleyball idiots
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Hinata Shouyou/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Kyoutani Kentarou/Reader, Miya Osamu/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Semi Eita/Reader, Tendou Satori/Reader, Tsukishima Kei/Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 125





	1. three wishes | o. tooru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a fight with oikawa ends in happy tears

Fights weren’t a stranger to you. It had been an unwelcome visitor in your childhood, one that came too frequently for your liking. It made itself comfortable in your life, never leaving no matter how much pain, how much misery it caused you. It followed you through highschool, college, and now it was here, settled into the little apartment you shared with your boyfriend of eight years.

Some days it was nothing more than a little speck of discomfort, petty arguments over what to eat or something left in the wrong spot. Some days it filled up the room, drowning you in overwhelming anger, bitter words and daggered glares thrown across the room.

Tonight was the latter, filled with harsh, biting statements that you yelled at each other, disregarding that fact that it was late, and the neighbours could probably hear you through the thin walls. They should be used to it by now; the screaming matches you two had were legendary throughout the apartment complex.

The argument replays in your head as you lean against the railing of the balcony, the cool railing biting into your heated skin. If you hadn’t walked out when you did, you were sure you would’ve made an irrational decision that you would come to regret.

The memory of the tail end of your argument has your shoulders folding inward.

_ “You’re always out with other girls, what else am I supposed to think?” Your hands gesticulated wildly, eyes blazing as you glared at the man you love. _

_ Tooru scoffed derisively, folding his built arms across his chest. Sarcasm drips from every word as he replies your scathing question. “I don’t know, maybe you could have some trust in me?” _

_ Your voice is sharp and disbelieving as you retort. “Not when all I see are those girls draped all over you in the bar!” _

_ “If you’re going to be so irrational and jealous, maybe we shouldn’t be together!” The words hit you hard, forcing you to take a step back. The silence that settles after the statement is stifling, the words daggering into your heart. There isn’t anything you can say in response to that, your mind blank as you process the words he had said. You had to leave, had to get away from the suffocating weight of that statement. Spinning on your heel, you darted out to the balcony, leaving behind a silent Tooru. _

God, how did it get this bad?

Your fights had been brutal, filled with malice and anger, but never once had your relationship been questioned like this. Fear and doubt crept into your muddled head, causing tears to spill out of your tired eyes. 

Were you really that irrational and jealous? Did you read too much into all those instagram photos and stories? After all, you knew it benefitted his career whenever he socialized.

But it hurt. Especially when you had to see those model-like girls all over him when he had cancelled his plans with you.

_ “Manager said I had to go.” His voice was apologetic, though you could hear the excitement of attending a party slip into his voice. _

_ Your voice is cheery, almost too much to be real as you reply him. “It’s okay! I’ll cancel the reservations, enjoy yourself love.” _

_ You miss whatever he tries to say as you end the call, the forced smile dropping into a tired tremble, trying your best not to cry. It was for his career, you told yourself. He needs the publicity. _

You had spent too many nights to count alone in your dark apartment while he partied in clubs, stumbling back home at dawn with his shirt unbuttoned scandalously low, his hair tousled with the stench of alcohol following after him.

Maybe you weren’t good enough for him. You, who was nothing extraordinary, who had never stood out from the crowd in any way, who had never particularly excelled in anything. Next to him, the Grand King, Mr Popular, you were nothing more than a mere shadow. Maybe he would be better off with someone else, someone who was worthy of him, someone who matched up with his exceptionality.

Your phone chimed, breaking you out of your thoughts. A glance down at the lit screen told you it was your best friend, and a longer look read you the message they sent.

_ ‘If you had three wishes, what would you wish for?’ _

A broken laugh slips out before you even realize it, a fresh wave of tears washing over you. 

“If I had three wishes,” you breathe out into the dark night, the stars watching you silently. “I wish that I was a better person than this. I wish that he would’ve met someone better for him than me. I wish-”

“That you’ll stay in my life forever, because there is no one better for me than you.”

You spun around, heart leaping into your throat as you met Tooru’s red-rimmed eyes. He stepped forward into the balcony, calloused hands reaching for yours. You let him slip his warm hands into your cold ones, and the warmth seeps into you, settling beneath your skin like an old friend. 

He inhales shakily, jaw clenching as his eyes glistens. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I don’t want anything or anyone else. I’m sorry for not being the boyfriend you deserve, and I’m sorry for making you feel that you’re not enough when the truth is you’re more than I can ever wish for.”

With every word, the distance between you closes, months and years of unspoken insecurities and anger washed away in the tears that slipped out of both of you. The weight of self-imposed expectations lifted from your weary shoulders, and it feels like you’re eighteen again, back under the same stars that watched you and Tooru get together. Now they watch as you reconcile, celebrating in the little winks they send your way.

“I love you, and only you.” He finishes, earnest eyes locked onto yours. The silent question he asks is answered by the press of your lips against his, and you can feel his relief as he melts into you, hands releasing to wrap around your waist and neck, pulling you as close as he could. You could have stayed like that forever, enveloped in all that was Oikawa Tooru, had it not been for human’s cursed need for oxygen.

Even as you pulled your lips from him, the minute distance too far for your liking, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck, relishing in the comfort he brought. His arms tightened around you, and you found yourself back where you belonged,  _ home _ .

You muttered your final wish, lips brushing softly against his skin. “I wish that we’ll stay like this forever.”


	2. dawn | o. tooru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> early mornings weren't so bad with oikawa

you weren’t one to wake up early, everyone knew better to disturb you from your sleep, especially the members of the seijoh volleyball team. (hanamaki’s nose still remains a little crooked to this day, bearing the proof of what happens when someone tries to wake you before you’re ready to get up.) all except one.

oikawa tooru, the captain of the volleyball team, your neighbor, and most importantly, the bane of your existence.

every morning, without fail, he’d somehow find a way into your room, shaking you awake just before daybreak. some days he woke you up gently, soft pats on your head until you opened your eyes. some days he’d throw your stationary at you, all the while snickering loudly from the corner he claimed in your room.

today, fortunately, was the former, so you awoke to a grinning oikawa staring down at you. “morning sunshine!” he continued to pat your head softly, and you leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his body pressed against your side.

“wha’ time,” you mumbled out, rubbing your eyes.

“it’s time for you to get out of bed,” he teased, not even reacting to the weak hand you had tossed out to smack him. “it’s 5:45am.”

you glared at him blearily. “how many times do i have to tell you to let me sleep past sunrise?”

“as many times as it’ll take for you to get up before sunrise,” he flicks you in the head, getting up from the bed abruptly. “now get up, you’re gonna miss it.”

grumbling under your breath, you climbed out of bed and rushed through your morning routine. as much as you liked to complain about waking up before the sun did, you did appreciate the momentary calm before the day begins. your days may be filled with a constant buzz of chaos, and your nights with stressed studying and tears, but you could always count on dawn to bring about a moment of peace.

climbing onto the roof, you settled down next to oikawa, curling into his side. the sky had barely begun to lighten, and you watched as colors bled from the horizon. you didn’t mind waking up early, you guess. especially if oikawa tooru was there.


	3. welcome home | i. hajime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> home was in iwaizumi's arms

there’s a stunned silence on the other end of the phone, not even a hint of breathing was heard from iwaizumi. you grin, biting down on your bottom lip to trap the laughter that threatens to escape.

“you’re-”

he cuts himself off and sounds of rustling and feet pounding crackles through the phone, growing louder and louder and loud-

the door slams open, iwaizumi standing on the other side with his phone held loosely in his hand. a disbelieving look is set upon his tan face, his green eyes widened in shock.

he looks the same as when he had left, albeit a little more tired looking, a little messier. his hair sticks up in all directions, like he had ran his hand through it multiple times roughly. you watch in amusement as his mouth opens and closes, words failing him as he takes in the sight at his apartment door in california on a wednesday night.

you raise your free hand, wiggling your fingers at him as a giggle slips past your lips. it shatters the silence in the air, and snaps iwaizumi out of shock. he lunges forward, phone tucked into his pocket in the second it takes for him to close the small distance and wrap his arms around you tightly.

a choked sob wracks down his body, and you can feel the relief seeping through him as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. your smile is blinding now, not that anyone can see it with your face pressed into his broad shoulder.

“hey hajime,” your voice is muffled by his shirt.

“ye-yeah?” his voice is gruff, and you realize with a start that your shoulder feels slightly damp.

“i’m home.”

he clutches you to him even tighter, almost constricting you, but you find that you don’t mind it so much, not when you’re surrounded by one of the best things life has blessed you with.

“welcome home.”


	4. gummy bears | b. koutaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bokuto being the happy bean we need

“hey hey hey!”

a container filled with reds and blues is shoved in front of you, obscuring the paper you’ve been working on for the past few hours. you stare past it, eyes trying and failing to focus on it, the black ink of the paper still ingrained in your vision.

bokuto rattles the box, resting a warm hand on your shoulder. the warmth grounds you, pulling you back in from the study-induced haze and you finally see what lays in the container. red and blue gummy bears fill up half of it, neatly sorted into two sections of colors.

“gummies?” his voice reminds you of a child presenting their very first artwork to their parent, and the pride in it brings a grin to your face, the exhaustion receding ever so slightly.

“gummies,” you sigh, grabbing the container from him to set it down on the table. turning to face him, you pucker your lips. “but kisses first, please.”

bokuto grins at you, golden eyes peeking out from beneath white streaked strands.

“well, since you said please.”


	5. forehead kisses | m. osamu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> osamu is a needy baby who can't go without his kisses

the soapy plate slips through his trembling fingers, shattering upon the ground with a crash that’s slightly too loud in the silence that fills the kitchen.

it wasn’t like he had gotten scared, or that he saw something that startled him. it was the sudden realization that he had left home that day without you pressing a kiss to his forehead.

osamu raises a wet hand to his forehead, fingers pressing lightly against the spot you’ve never failed to press a gentle kiss to every morning. until today. it feels odd, slightly cold to the touch despite the heat of the kitchen, though that could just be the water on his hands.

he shakes his head slightly, wiping his hands down on his apron. no, today wasn’t going to do well if he didn’t get his forehead kiss. he was going to go home and get it. carefully stepping over the broken shards scattered across the floor, he hurries out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder to the staff that he’ll be back in an hour and to clean up the plate for him, thanks.

osamu’s in the midst of untying his apron when the shop’s door opens, the jingle of the bell you had tied above the door alerting him of a new customer. the standard greeting begins to slip out of him even as he dons his coat until he realizes that the person is not a customer.

“‘samu!” you prance forward, arms supporting your round belly.

he blinks once. twice.

“what?” is all he’s able to come up with, too dumbfounded by the sight of his very pregnant wife standing in his shop, a good half an hour away from home.

“i’m here to give you your forehead kiss!” you announce cheerfully.

he makes for a comical sight he knows, remaining frozen, arms halfway through his beige coat, but he can’t seem to move past the fact that his wife, _his pregnant wife_ , made the long trip across town in the middle of winter to give him his goddamn forehead kiss.

your laughter fills the shop, attracting the attention of the few customers that braved the journey out into the cold for his onigiri. he watches as the corner of your eyes crinkle, your lips curved into a breathtaking smile as you tip toe and lean in to plant a soft kiss on his head.

osamu’s eyes flit close, savoring the coldness of your lips on his heated skin. the fragrance of your perfume fills his senses, wrapping around him in a soothing embrace. a sigh escapes his lips and he twines his arms around you.

it feels like the final puzzle piece slipping into place, the satisfying click of a door closing at the end of the day, the feeling of rightness. here, with you in his arms, in the shop where everything began.


	6. ritual | a. keiji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi Keiji and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Akaashi Keiji was not a superstitious man. 

As traditional as his household was, and however strongly his family emphasized on the importance of japanese superstitions, he had never believed in them.

Years later, long after he had moved out of his family home into one shared with you, a routine was established, and one could almost call it a ritual.

Every morning he was the first to wake, not by choice, but by a daily call from an overenthusiastic best friend from his high school days. Then, he would start preparing a small breakfast for the two of you, pausing in the middle to wake you up.

You would scrunch your face up in reluctance and tug the blanket over your head with a sleepy, “Five more minutes Keiji.”

He would give you an extra ten, and then bring breakfast to you in bed, where the two of you would spend the next half an hour just eating in silence as you slowly woke up. Once you were done, Keiji would get ready for work while you cleaned the dishes up, and then join him in the toilet to do your skincare and makeup while he styled his hair.

When you were both ready to leave the house, he would walk you to the bus stop, and you would share a sweet kiss before he left for his own bus stop.

Now that morning, everything was done in the same fashion, except for one thing – the bus had arrived right as you reached the bus stop, and you had left him with a rushed “I love you” and no parting kiss.

He hadn’t managed to get his parting kiss as the bus had arrived right as you reached the bus stop, and you had left him with a rushed “I love you.”

‘It’s fine,’ he told himself. ‘It’s just a kiss.’

It was not just a kiss.

The second the bus had left, a stranger had rammed right into him, spilling ice coffee all over his brand new coat that you had bought him.

He brushed it off as an unfortunate incident and carried on with his day. But more and more things happened that were starting to convince him that the lack of his usual goodbye kiss was the reason for this series of unfortunate events.

He had not completed the last step in your daily ritual, and whatever entity that overlooked your relationship was now wreaking havoc on his life in retribution.

He glanced at the digital clock every few seconds, desperate for the day to be over. Your brief texts were the only thing keeping him sane, and he couldn’t help but wring his hands whenever they weren’t occupied with something.

After what seemed like days (it was only a few hours), the work day ended, and Keiji rushed off to where he would pick you up from your workplace. Your work always ended later than his, so he hadn’t bothered to call to inform you that he was coming over.

That was a mistake.

That day your boss had been in an especially good mood, dismissing all his employees early and closing the shop. “For a special occasion,” he said, eyes twinkling with a certain joy.

He shoved a handful of onigiri in everyone’s hands before shutting the doors in their faces, and so you had decided to go fetch Keiji for once, giving him a nice surprise with his favourite food.

So when Keiji stood outside Onigiri Miya with the doors locked and lights off, he was, quite frankly, done with today.

His phone rang then and he yanked it out of his pocket roughly, only for it to slip out of his fingers and land on the floor with a sickening crack.

His stomach dropped, and he quickly bent down to inspect the damage. He had just gotten this phone a couple weeks ago, and if he had to replace it already, you would  _ not _ be happy. Keiji flipped the phone over with bated breath, and thankfully, there were nothing more than a few cracks along his screen protector.

He finally noticed the name flashing across his screen and answered it, eager to hear your voice.

“Keiji? Baby where are you?”

“I’m at Onigiri Miya. Why is the shop closed?”

“Oh! Osamu decided to close the shop early today, but he didn’t say why. So I decided to come fetch you, but it seems like we missed each other.”

“Wait there, I’ll come back.”

Ignoring whatever stuttered protest you had given, he hung up the phone and began sprinting his way back, much too impatient to wait for the bus.

As he rounded the corner that led to you, he crashed into someone else who had been running as well.

“I’m so sorry, I hope you’re okay, I need to go!” The stranger patted him on the shoulder and ran off, their scarf billowing behind them.

Keiji merely shook the impact off and continued his run. He had to see you now. He had to stop whatever this was.

“Keiji!” You called out to him with a bright smile, bundled under the same layers he had wrapped you in this morning.

He slowed down the last few meters that led up to you, and all but threw himself on you, wrapping his arms tightly and tucking his face into your neck.

A sigh of relief and contentment escapes him as all the tension of the day seeps out of him, your familiar scent calming him and your warmth melting through the haziness of his frayed nerves.

“Keiji? You okay?” Your concerned voice is muffled from where your face is pressed into his shoulder.

Yes, he was okay. Now that he was back in your arms, where the world didn’t seem so terrifying, where he belonged.

“You are never leaving me without a goodbye kiss  _ ever _ again.”


	7. first kiss | k. tobio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> your first kiss isn't perfect. but that's okay, that's why second kisses exist

The two of you sat on the wooden park bench, the quiet sounds of the nightlife filling your ears as you talked. The distant honking of cars driving past, the soft footsteps of people walking by, the high chirping of cicadas nestled in the grass. The tranquility of the night that brought out your calmer, gentler side was a welcome change from the energetic, bubbly persona you put on in the day.

Kageyama appreciated this side of you, the one where you didn’t put up a front for others, the one where you shared your thoughts freely, where your shoulders weren’t so tense and your face relaxed. This was not to say he didn’t admire how you could put up such a convincing perky guise, for he could never imagine himself doing so, especially not around the idiots he had to face on a daily basis.

As he watched you share your thoughts on why you felt that video game characters should be more inclusive and cut down on the sexualization of the characters, he couldn’t help but stare at how the streetlamps’ glow created a hazy light around you, illuminating your beauty and making your bright eyes shine even brighter.

The intensity in your voice overwhelmed him, but the steadiness of the grip you had on his hand grounded him to you. You were always pretty, he thought, but you looked absolutely ethereal when you were passionate, washing out everything around you as you demanded to be seen, to be heard by everyone around you.

Watching you talk was like watching a play, you were the actress that commanded the stage, and he hung onto every word you said as though it were water to a man in the desert. 

He studied your features, memorizing the way your lips moved and curled around certain words, the expressiveness of your eyes that gave away how you felt. He could watch you forever and never be bored.

In the midst of your rant, pieces of your hair had come loose, falling into your face. Before you could push them back, Kageyama had reached out and gently tucked them behind your ear, causing you to pause in your speech as your heart skipped a beat, your face pinking. 

When he realized what he had done, his face formed a violent blush to match yours, his heart thundering as hard as it usually does after a satisfying match of volleyball. The way you looked up at him through your long, dark lashes with those disorienting doe eyes brought a surge of courage within him.

Kageyama was not known to be a smooth man, and this was evident in what transpired next.

He darted forward, fully intending on sharing a sweet first kiss with you, but what he had not taken into consideration was the force of which he lunged forward with. Maybe it was his volleyball instincts that had him moving with such speed and intensity, but it didn’t prevent the pain that erupted from both of you when his lips collided rather harshly with yours, foreheads crashing against one another.

You pulled back with an exclamation, rubbing the offending spots, sure that there was a red spot appearing. Kageyama wasn’t faring much better with his face sporting a red so bright that it was hard to tell if his forehead was turning red from the collision. He was filled with utter mortification at the spectacularly embarrassing fail of a first kiss. 

He began apologizing profusely, stumbling over his words as he tried to soothe the red bump forming on your head. You let out a giggle and he froze, the sound filling him up with an indescribable warmth that reminded him of a cup of hot chocolate on a cold winter night in front of the fireplace.

Your delicate hands gripped his wrist and brought it down to your lips, planting a soft kiss on his knuckles. As your blush deepened, you placed a hand on the nape of his neck, gently pulling forward. 

Kageyama held his breath in anticipation, his free hand curling into a fist in nervousness. As the distance between you shrunk until your lips were barely brushing against each other, he tilted his face slightly and met your lips. 

His heart went into overdrive, and he wondered if you could feel how hard it was beating from the grasp you had on his wrist. You pulled away, and though the kiss was brief, it was in short, perfect. 

He smiled at you, a full, unreserved, eyes crinkling smile, one that was solely meant for you. And to see you reciprocate that smile with your own dazzling one, he decided that the embarrassment he went through was worth every bit of this moment. 


	8. hands | t. kei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tsukishima shows you how much he loves your insecurities

After what seemed like an eternity, the teacher dismissed the class for lunch, and you took your lunch box out, setting it out on the desk while you waited for your boyfriend and best friend to come to your classroom. Despite having similar grades, you were placed in a different class from Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, much to your disappointment. 

As you waited there patiently, you listened in to your classmates’ conversations. In specific, the one that was currently going on beside you.

They were known to be the noisy group of the class, with their constant loud laughter and inability to use their inside voices. 

“Bro, your hand is huge! It’s the size of my face!” One of the girls exclaimed as she held one of the guys hand up. That was Suzuki and Matsui, you realized as you studied their group. You had never really interacted with them before, your shyer and calmer persona clashing with their loud and chaotic ones.

Suzuki caught you looking and shouted over, “Hey, Y/n, come here and show us your hands, I bet mine’s bigger than yours.”

You flushed and walked over as the whole group turned to stare at you. Despite their warm welcomes, you still felt as though you were drowning in their intensity.

Without waiting for you to make a move, Suzuki grabbed your arm and yanked it up, planting her hand firmly against yours.

“Holy shit! Your hands are way smaller than mine!” She exclaimed, eyes wide as she gawked. “Though your fingers are thicker.”

The group passed you around as though you were a toy, all marveling at the fact that your hands looked absolutely tiny compared to theirs. One of them had even interlocked their hand with yours, remarking that your hands were “really soft and squishy”. 

You felt uncomfortable with all the attention placed upon you, your face flushing redder and redder as they made more comments, each one making you feel worse than the last. Shoulders shrinking in on themselves, you tilted your head to the ground, wishing that Tsukishima and Yamaguchi would hurry and reach your class already. 

Matsui grabbed your hand, forcing you to wrap it around his wrist. “Yo, look at this guys, her fingers don’t even meet!” 

True enough, your thumb and middle finger were far from meeting each other around his wrist, making your hand seem even smaller than it usually did.

“Your hands are like baby hands, Y/n. Do you have to use baby utensils too?” Someone teased.

You yanked your hand back, clutching them to your chest. Tears began to brim your eyes as the feeling of being trapped began to drown you.

“Y/n! We’re here!” Yamaguchi’s voice cut through the thoughts that were rushing around your mind, a wave of relief washing over you.

“I-I need to go, my friends are here.” You awkwardly nodded to the group, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie.

They chorused their goodbyes and went back to their conversation as you all but ran to the duo.

“Kei! Yamaguchi!” You greeted them excitedly, relief evident in your voice.

“Hey, Y/n.” Tsukishima sat down by your table, laying out his lunch box. “What was going on over there?”

You tensed slightly but quickly plastered on a bright smile. “Oh, it was nothing. They were just comparing hands. Let’s eat now, I’m starving!”

Tsukishima stared at you, eyes contemplative as he took in how you seemed to slouch slightly, and the way you kept your hands tucked away when they weren’t in use. He shot a glare over to the group that you were with earlier. Regardless of their intentions, they had made you feel upset, and he wasn’t okay with that.

But he knew you hated confrontations, so he would stay in his seat and keep quiet. Only for you.

School had finally ended, and you rushed out of the class, avoiding the group in case they tried to grab you and tease you again.

Tsukishima was already waiting outside your class, leaning against the wall.

“Kei! Where’s Yamaguchi?” You beamed up at your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He placed an arm around your shoulder as you began to walk. “He had a project to do, so he told us to head on without him.”

You hummed in response, nodding your head. As the two of you made your way out of school and onto the familiar road that led you home, Tsukishima spoke. 

“Hey, Y/n. Are you okay?”

Tilting your head in question, you blinked up at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“During lunch, you seemed upset. Was it that group you were with that made you feel that way?” He scrutinized your face for any hint of discomfort and found them in the way your face tightened ever so slightly, eyes flickering down for a second.

Before you could reply, he stopped walking, forcing you to a halt. He released his hold on your shoulder in favor of holding your hands, lifting them to his face and peppered small kisses all over them. 

Heat rose to your cheeks and trailed down your neck, disappearing past the collar of your uniform as Tsukishima showered your hands in an uncharacteristic show of love and affection.

“Do you know what I love about you, Y/n?” He asked, clasping your hands with his significantly larger ones.

“Uh, my eyes?” You squeaked out, flustered by how intensely he was staring at you.

“Well, yes, that’s one of them, but I love your hands a lot too.”

You frowned at him, eyes darting down to glare at your child-like hands. “Why? They’re so small, and chubby and-“

“They fit perfectly within mine. Look,” he interlaced your hands and you watched his big hands envelop yours. “They are adorable and perfect and I love the fact that your hands are smaller than mine.”

Tsukishima stuck up his pinky finger, prompting you to do so as well. “Look at how cute your pinky is next to mine. I love the way your hands are, so you don’t have to care about what everyone else says.”

Your heart stuttered, and you swore your brain just about combusted from his sweetness.

“I love you, Kei.” You leaned up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips, trying to convey to him just how much you appreciated him and how much better he made you feel.

He smiled into the kiss and pulled away, linking your pinkies together and tugged you forward. “C’mon, I want to get the strawberry shortcake from the bakery near your house.”

Grinning happily, you skipped alongside him, your heart full and hands warm within his grasp.

“I’ll treat you!”


	9. sunkissed stigma | h. shoyou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> your soulmate marks had always seemed like a curse, until you met him

You hated it, the black swirls that covered the expanse of your arms, curling and ending in sharp tips that reminded you of the pointed tips of daggers.

Everyone else had small, soft tattoos that marked them as half a pair of a soulmate, so why did you have to be the one that had such a fiery, attention-grabbing one?

Mothers would yank their children away from you, warning them to stay away. “Their soulmate’s going to be a gangster, so don’t talk to them!”

Even the adults on the streets would give you a wide berth, no matter that you were nothing more than a mere child.

It stung, the isolation, the fearful glares.

How could society make an opinion on what they didn’t know?

And so you took to covering them up, wearing long sleeves even in the burning heat of summer.

You managed to make a few friends then, and despite their occasional odd glances at your choice of clothes, they had accepted you as their friend, and you finally got to experience what friendship was.

Or so you thought.

The day came when your friend had accidentally spilled their drink on your jacket and they had hurriedly tugged it off you, ignoring the loud protests you were giving.

The second your arms came into view, everyone froze. The cafeteria was shushed into silence as they took in the dark ink that covered your arms, ink that you had so desperately tried to keep hidden.

Your friends began avoiding you that day, leaving you to revert back to the lonely kid they had first met. There were no apologies, no explanations, nothing. Just pure silence no matter how hard you tried to approach them.

You hate your soulmate mark, you hate it, you hate it,  _ you hate it _ .

There was nothing more in life you loathed than this ugly, terrifying mark that ostracized you and made you friendless.

You hated your soulmate.

You cursed whoever they were, for existing, for being the person they were, for being connected to you.

When the time came for high school, you had resigned to your fate, there wasn’t anything you could do about the cards you had been dealt with. You decided to put on a chilly persona instead, guarding your fragile heart from the cruelty of the world.

If society wanted nothing to do with you, then you wanted nothing to do with them either.

You had anticipated for the glares and fearful distance to be carried on, for your schoolmates to act like you didn’t exist.

What you hadn’t anticipated was for you to find your soulmate in the human embodiment of the sun.

He had came bouncing, quite literally, into your life, crashing into you with a loud yell of excitement, warm hands wrapping around your wrists to compare your arms.

“You’re my soulmate!” He exclaimed brightly, face flushed in pure joy as he jumped up and down. “Look! Look! We have matching marks!”

True enough, there were black swirls that were reminiscent of your own, though these were softer, sweeping and curling, very much like the gentle waves of the ocean.

“Woaaah, yours are so cool! They’re like fire! You’re so cool, uhh, what’s your name? I’m Hinata Shoyou!” He scratched his head sheepishly, one hand still grasping yours.

You were stunned by him, this boy, who was so full of joy, so full of childlike enthusiasm. This was the supposed gangster soulmate?

No, he was far from that. He was so much more than what society had labeled him, and as you got to know him, the more you learned how he defied them, how he destroyed the box that they tried to squeeze him in.

His ambition, his passion, his pure love for you, they were what thawed your icy exterior and taught you to look beyond the snide remarks people made.

He gave you everything he had, a love that burned so brightly it blinded you sometimes, but it also lit up the darkness that seemed to surround you. You were the one who kept him grounded, who made sure that he didn’t burn out from how intensely he blazed.

You were the calm to his chaos.

And here you were, ten years later, laid in his arms as he held an orange marker, gently coloring the empty spaces between your marks.

Staring down at your marks side by side, you felt at peace, with the love of your life wrapped around you, where you found solace in the calmness of the dark waves on his arms.

You love your soulmate mark, for it represented everything Hinata Shoyou was.

And you love him, with all your heart, all your soul.


	10. bad day | y. tadashi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> having a bad day doesn't so bad after all

It had been a bad day for you. First, you woke up late, then you had missed the bus, causing you to take a taxi to work, which resulted in you being stuck in one of the worst traffic jams on the expressway in history. You had arrived to work two hours late before realizing that you left your lunch at home. And as if things could not get any worse, you spilled hot coffee all over yourself, staining your only white blouse beyond saving. 

The day only got worse when you saw the insane amount of paperwork you had to file, and your mood deteriorated throughout the day as everyone seemed intent on being overly loud and chaotic today. By the time you got home, you were in a foul mood, having been drenched in rainwater by a speeding car at the traffic junction.

You stomped into the bathroom, stripped yourself, and got into the shower, leaning against the wall as the hot water ran down your tense body. Today had been nothing short of stressful and frustrating and you wanted to do nothing more than relax and sleep.

After spending a solid half an hour in the shower, you quickly got dressed and made your way to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Much to your surprise, however, your boyfriend of three years was already home and halfway done cooking. 

“Tadashi, you’re home.” You said tiredly, moving forwards to wrap your arms around his waist and burrowed your face into his back. His familiar scent enveloped you, easing your bad mood a little.

He chuckled, one warm hand covering your intertwined ones while the other continued to stir the pan. “Bad day?”

“The worst,” you grumbled, arms tightening around him briefly before letting go to set the table.

He hummed, wordlessly prompting for you to tell him about it. As you vented to him, he finished cooking and began serving the dishes, half of which were your favorite dishes. You did not miss this fact and planted a soft kiss on his lips in silent thanks.

As per routine, Yamaguchi turned on the radio so you two could listen to music while you ate. You did not realize how hungry you were until you began eating, the hunger finally catching up to you after having a lack of appetite the whole day. When dinner was finished, you stood up, ready to do the dishes when Tadashi grabbed you by the waist and spun you around.

“Babe, what are you doing?” You giggled, hands gripping his arms for stability.

He twirled you once more before settling you in his arms, hugging you tightly as you swayed around the kitchen.

“Trying to make you happy,” he responded with a sweet smile, his brown eyes twinkling. “Is it working?”

You blushed deeply, despite having known him since high school and dating for three years, his sweet and caring nature still affected you. He grinned at your reaction, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tucking your head into the crook of his neck to hide your burning face, you interlocked your fingers and rested them on the back of his neck. With the gentle music playing in the background while you swayed with the love of your life, you would not have traded away the bad day for anything if it meant that it would end in this. 


	11. couple costumes | t. kei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> only for you, tsukishima would do embarrassing things

You hummed happily, bouncing up the steps to Tsukishima’s house. You couldn’t wait to give him what you just bought. Knocking rapidly on your door, you were practically vibrating, waves of excitement pouring off you. 

The door yanked open, revealing your boyfriend’s annoyed face. “You couldn’t just knock once and wait?”

You grinned at him, not affected by his snappish tone. “Of course I could! But where would the fun in that be?”

He rolled his eyes and made to close the door on you.

“Kei!” You protested, darting forward to lean against the door in an attempt to push it open. But to your dismay, you were no match for him, losing to his strength.

You slumped against the door pouting and fell back when it opened suddenly. You closed your eyes as you braced for the impact of the hard floor but instead found yourself resting in muscular arms.

Opening your eyes, you came face to face with a smirking blond. You scowled at him, wriggling out of his grasp. 

“You’re so mean to me Kei, I don’t think I want to give you your present anymore.” You frowned at him, jokingly turning to face the door.

He grabbed you by the collar and yanked you back. “Oi, you can’t just leave after being such a nuisance. I demand compensation.”

You pretended to contemplate, biting back a grin at Tsukishima’s poorly hidden eagerness. As much as he liked to hide behind that mask of indifference, you knew he enjoyed receiving gifts from you.

At his ‘tsk’, you pulled off your bag and tugged out the package, shoving it into his awaiting hands. As he took in the package, the minute grin he had on slipped into one of disbelief, then horror.

“I am not wearing this.” He deadpanned, tossing it back to you as though it contained a disease. 

“Kei! C’mon! I know you haven’t bought a costume for the volleyball club’s costume party tonight, so I got one for you.” You beamed, your hands tearing open the plastic wrapping to show him the full costume. “Look how nice it is. It’s perfect for you!”

His glower deepened and he turned to walk to his room. You followed after him, waving it around and rambling about why he should wear it.

“Y/n. There is no way in hell,” he spat, looking absolutely revolted. “that I am going to wear a full-body French fry costume. Not to a party, not anywhere.”

The smile finally slipped from your face, and your shoulders slumped. It was as if the life had been seeped out of you when you next spoke. “Fine, whatever. I don’t care. It’s not like I have a matching ketchup bottle costume.” 

You dropped the costume on the floor, grabbed your bag, and hurried out of his house, ignoring his exasperated calls telling you to wait.

You ignored his texts and calls for the remainder of the day and got ready for the party. Fine. Even if he didn’t want to wear the French fry suit, you would still wear your ketchup one. You were funny enough on your own anyways.

When the time came for you to leave for the party, you weren’t expecting to see Tsukishima standing outside your house, waiting for you. Much less wearing the costume.

You rubbed your eyes in disbelief. Did he really wear it?

Dashing towards him, you confirmed that he did indeed wear the embarrassing outfit, though he was sporting a deep scowl with it. That didn’t dampen your happiness, too overjoyed at the fact that he actually wore it.

“Kei! You wore it!” You smiled so brightly that he had to take a second to reply you.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Let’s get going before anyone sees me.” He stalked off, body curling in on himself as though doing so could make him less visible.

You snorted at his reaction and skipped alongside him, entangling your hand with his as you made your way to school.

“BAAHAHHAHA TSUKISHIMA’S WEARING A FRENCH FRY COSTUME!” Tanaka had burst out the second you stepped into the gym, catching everyone’s attention. Tsukishima froze, a dark blush spreading across his pale face, his features pinching even tighter.

“Tsukki you look so cute!” Yamaguchi exclaimed, bouncing over from the food table.

“Shut up Yamaguchi,” he grouched, tugging you towards the food.

“Sorry, Tsukki!” The cheery brunette replied, turning to look at you instead. “Y/n you look adorable! I love how you’re matching Tsukki.”

You giggled. “Thank you, Yamaguchi! I’m glad you noticed. And Kei does look cute in his costume, don’t you Kei?”

The boy in question merely ignored you, opting to grab a cup of water instead. 

Used to his reactions, you continued your conversation with Yamaguchi until you were interrupted by Sugawara. “Tsukishima must love you a lot for him to wear that, huh?”

You blushed, stammering out a reply. “O-oh nono, he just wore that beca-“

“Yeah, I do.”

Your heart stopped. Did you hear correctly? Did Tsukishima Kei just say he loved you?

You turned to him slowly, eyes wide. “Do-do you really mean that?”

His previous blush hadn’t faded, and it seemed to spread down his neck, disappearing past the collar of the costume.

“Yes, I do, idiot. I love you. I wouldn’t have worn this otherwise.” He gestured to his torso.

Happiness overflowed from you, your heart bursting with love and adoration for this boy. “I love you too Kei!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He said dismissively, but you saw him hide a grin as he turned away from you.

Yeah, you really loved this boy.


	12. fall for you | h. shoyou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in true typical Hinata-style, his proposal isn't the smoothes, but still gets the desired end result

The crowd went wild, cheering as your boyfriend spiked the ball, the resounding echo of the ball slamming into the floor signifying the end of the game.

You hugged Akaashi tightly, too excited to act in a dignified manner. But it didn’t matter. Not when Hinata had been the one who had scored the point that won the MSBY Black Jackals the championship.

Akaashi pried out of your vice-like grip and tugged you down the steps to stand at the railings. 

You leaned over the railings, yelling as loudly as you could over the rejoicing crowd.

“Shoyou, I’m so proud of you!” Your arms flailed around as you tried to catch his attention.

Not that you needed to do so when the crowd fell silent and the entire gym went dark, save for two spotlights that shone at you and Hinata. You blinked confusedly, turning to look at Akaashi as though he would have an answer.

It turns out he did know something as he shook his head and pointed towards the court. You returned your attention to the court, only to find that Hinata had moved to stand just below you, a microphone in his hand.

“Hi Y/n!” He smiled nervously up at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. You had no idea how he still had the energy to do so, considering the long and exhausting match he had just played.

“Hi Shoyou,” you beamed down at him, butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. Just then, a microphone was shoved into your hands by Akaashi. Staring down at the microphone in surprise, Akaashi sighed and shoved it up towards your mouth.

“Speak into it.“ He whispered into your ear before stepping back, leaving you alone under the spotlight.

“Ahem,” Hinata cleared his throat, bright eyes shining up at you as he seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say.

“C’mon Shoyo-kun, dontcha pussy out now.” Atsumu’s voice can be heard hissing out from the darkness.

Hinata flushed, shooting a dirty glare at the setter’s general direction. “Shut up Atsumu-san! I’m not!”

“Shoyou,” you called down gently to him, wincing as you heard your voice coming through the speakers.

His attention whipped back to you and he somehow went even redder, to the point where you were starting to get worried for him.

He cleared his throat once more, wiping sweat away from his eyes.

“Y/n. I remember the first time we met,” you grinned at him as memories flashed through your mind. “I was racing Kageyama and didn’t see where I was going and crashed into you.” 

The crowd let out a laugh.

“But you didn’t mind. You even helped me to beat Kageyama by showing me a shortcut to the gym, and I think that was the moment I started falling for you and never stopped. Even now, as each day passes, I still fall for you, for all the little things you do, all the words you say. Do you remember our third year of high school, when we snuck out of training camp to watch the stars?”

You nodded at him, tears brimming your eyes as you finally realized what was happening.

“I remember that night very clearly. You were lying on the grass, and it seemed like the stars were reflecting you, and all I could think in that moment was ‘I want to marry her.’ And that thought has followed me through the years, through all our happiest moments, through all our fights, and now we’re here. So will you make those words a reality and do me the honor of becoming your husband?”

Hinata knelt down, a ring held out in his hand.

“Hinata-kun, you’re on the wrong knee,” Sakusa called out boredly.

You looked at his legs to find that he indeed was on his right knee and let out a chuckle.

Hinata quickly switched to his left knee, his faded blush returning full-force.

Smiling through the tears that were now flowing down your face freely, you gasped out into the microphone, “Yes, yes I will marry you Shoyo. Even if you proposed on the wrong knee.”

Your now fiance let a whoop of joy, and the lights flashed back on. His teammates crowded around him and tossed him into the air while Akaashi congratulated you and hurried you down to the main court.

Standing in front of your fiance, Hinata grabbed your left hand and shakily slid the simple diamond ring on.

The two of you shared a watery grin, before leaning in for a short sweet kiss, the chaos of the gym fading out as you revelled in the joy of being engaged.

Parting from the kiss, you whispered to him, “Hinata Y/n, I like that a lot.”


	13. why | k. tobio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> questions that will never be answered as kageyama walks out of your life

You knew you were never meant to last anyways. So why did it hurt as you watched him pack up his things around you?

It started with Kageyama leaving, with nothing more than a duffle bag carrying only the bare necessities.

You laid alone that night, cold and hollow as you stared at the imprint he left in your shared bed, the rain thundering against the fragile windows. The blankets you piled on top of you just couldn’t seem to keep you warm, nor replicate the comforting weight of his arm as you curled into him, his chin resting atop your head.

Did he feel your absence as you did his?

It continued with his items slowly disappearing when you came home. First his laptop, then his volleyball things, and eventually his clothes.

The mug that he used to drink out of, his navy toothbrush, his favorite bucket hat.

Things that used to be carelessly strewn across your apartment were now gone, leaving more than just an empty space in their wake.

Did he feel the absence of your belongings as you did his?

Your closet, once filled to the brim with clothes, was now half-empty, and the space seemed to mock you, laughing at your past self for fighting for closet space. There wasn’t a need now, was there?

Kageyama left nothing behind, not even a single loose sock or the jacket you used to steal on cold days.

There was no sign he had ever been with you, in the apartment you bought together, save for the few photographs that were scattered around.

Did he feel the overwhelming space that consumed him, making him feel infinitely smaller than he was as you did?

All you were left with were memories and photographs, poor replacements for the magnificence he was.

Memories and photographs couldn’t replicate the warmth he gave, they couldn’t retort with witty comments that had you feeling annoyed and loved at the same time. They couldn’t make you shitty breakfast that was burned around the edges, nor could they berate you for leaving the dishes undone in the sink.

You could do nothing but remember him. The early mornings spent just gazing at each other through sleepy, lidded eyes, the afternoons punctuated by loud laughter and biting jokes, the nights filled with hushed conversations and whispers of love.

The past came back in choppy flashes, with conversations under the cool shade of a tree, your hands carding through his hair as he laid his head in your lap, eyes trained upon a video playing on his. You standing next to his car, yelling at him as the rain poured down, drenching the two of you to the bone. Him seated on the floor, arms wrapped around you as you watched a horror movie, snickering every time you jumped. Hushed arguments carried out in your friend’s kitchen, arms flailing as you tried to get your point across. 

Roses that covered every inch of your work desk, with a simple note of ‘I love you.’ laid upon it. A meal at his favorite restaurant celebrating your anniversary. You dragging his wasted self out of the bar, hissing threats all the while. Him canceling your dates to stay late for practice. You waiting with a cold dinner as the clock ticked past midnight. Him walking out the door, not sparing you a second glance.

You knew you were never meant to last anyways. So why did it hurt as he walked out of your life, leaving nothing but you behind?


	14. mistletoe magic || k. tetsurou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a last minute invite plus mistletoe leads to a very special christmas present

From: puddin  
_ christmas party @ 7pm  
_ Read, 3:28pm

To: puddin  
_ kENMA THAT’S NOT ENOUGH TIME FOR ME TO BUY PRESENTS WHY DID YOU TELL ME SO LATE  
_ Read, 3:28pm

From: puddin  
_ just bring booze, don’t bother with presents  
_ Read, 3:28pm

To: puddin  
_???no???  
_ Read, 3:29pm

To: puddin  
_ kenma??  
_ Read, 3:33pm

To: puddin  
_ STOP LEAVING ME ON READ  
_ Read, 3:37pm

To: puddin  
_ KOZUME KENMA  
_ Read, 3:39pm

From: puddin  
_ told everyone no presents, happy?  
_ Read, 3:45pm  


_ To: puddin  
_ _ wHAT- THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT  
_ Read, 3:45pm

To: puddin  
_ nvm, thanks i guess  
_ Read, 3:45pm

You set your phone down, a loud exhale escaping from your mouth as you lean back in your chair. Kenma never failed to make you feel panicked and exasperated with his last minute events. Though you should have expected it, last time, he had invited you to a birthday party an hour before it began.

Well, that ruins your plans of getting drunk alone at home. You cast a mournful look at the bottle of unopened wine sitting on the kitchen counter. That would have to wait for tomorrow, then. With a loud groan, you heave yourself off the sofa, dragging yourself to the bedroom. If you were going to a party, you might as well look good.

After a few hours of getting ready (and getting distracted by the songs blasting in your room), you can’t deny that you look like a full course meal. A satisfied smile rests on your lips as you leave the house.

The party is in full swing when you sweep into Kenma’s apartment. Despite being filthy rich, Kenma stuck to a simple apartment in the city, though you couldn’t deny that it was still relatively big. You scan the room, spotting his signature two-toned hair disappear into the kitchen.

“Kenma!” You call after him, but your voice is drowned out by chatter and soft music playing in the background. Hurrying after him, you try calling out for him again, and in your hurry, you crash into someone trying to walk into the kitchen the same time you did.

“Sorry-”

“I’m so sorry-”

The both of you laugh, and you see who you had bumped into.

“Kuroo, hi,” your voice is a little too breathless for your liking, your body suddenly too aware of what it’s pressed against.

“Hey Y/n,” he grins back at you. “Been a while since we met huh?”

“Yeah.” Damn it, why wasn’t your brain working right?

Clearing your throat loudly, you pull back from him slightly, though before you can leave the doorway, an annoyingly familiar voice pipes up.

“Hey hey hey! Look who’s under the mistletoe together!”

Your eyes shoot up to the top of the doorway, where a wreath of mistletoe is indeed hanging. You turn your gaze towards the culprit, shooting him a glare. Bokuto winks at you from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, a beer in one hand and Akaashi’s hand in the other.

“Uh,” Kuroo coughs awkwardly.

You turn back to him, flushing as you meet his eyes. He had turned an amusing shade of red, though you were no better in hiding your embarrassment, eyes wide and mouth gaping slightly.

“Well, uh, you don’t have to if you don’t want to?” He scratches his neck, averting his eyes.

“You can’t break tradition, unless you want bad luck.” It’s Akaashi who calls out this time, a small smirk resting on his face.

By this time, everyone has noticed your compromising position, and begin chanting “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”, courtesy of Bokuto starting it.

“It doesn’t look like we have a choice, do we?” You shrug helplessly at him, and the bashful smile that he returns emboldens you.

You place a hand on his cheek, the other on the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. His hands flail for a second, before coming to rest on your waist. It feels like they’ve settled there a million times before, and the feeling of his lips on yours is enough to turn your mind into a jumbled mess of thoughts.

The loud cheers of the party fades in as you finally part from each other, matching dazed smiles plastered across your faces. You bury your burning face into his chest, and Kuroo lets out a nervous chuckle as he brings his arms up to hug you.

“I’d like to do that again, after a date. If you want to?”

All you can do is nod, still too flustered by the very public kiss. Kuroo laughs, tightening his hold.

“I look forward to it.” 


	15. daydream || a. keiji

he leaned in close, long lashes fluttering as the gap between you diminishes. you could almost feel his warm breath caressing your cheeks, his captivating eyes locked onto yours. closer, closer, _closer_...

“y/n.” 

you blink, and akaashi, _the real akaashi_ , stands in front of you. a deep flush develops as your daydream sinks in, and you can’t meet his eyes. those intelligent blue eyes that you were just thinking about...

“are you okay?” you snap back once more, jerking upright as akaashi frowns at you. you nod furiously, not trusting your words to come out coherently.

(if you were a little more perceptive and not so flustered, you might’ve noticed the fond amusement laying behind his eyes.)

“what were you thinking about?” he tilts his head slightly. “there’s a little,” he motions to the corner of his lips, and you’re ashamed to admit that you were already staring at them. “drool over here.”

eyes widening in embarrassment, you duck your head and wipe furiously with your sleeve. god, could you be anymore of an idiot in front of him? looking up at akaashi, you’re prepared to apologise when he places a warm hand on your cheek.

it takes everything in you to not lose your mind and force your words to come out slowly. “what are you doing?”

he merely smiles, answering softly. “there’s still something there, let me get it for you.”

before you have a chance to react, his lips are pressed against yours and it’s instinct that has you melting into the kiss. it’s more than you thought it would be and everything you never knew you needed. the kiss ends faster than you’d like, and akaashi pulls back, a light blush coating his cheeks.

“better than that daydream?”


	16. untitled || s. eita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by afterglow by the driver era

it's been years since semi's seen you (out of the incessant stalking he does on your social media, of course) and the sight of you standing in front of him is enough to make him stumble over his lyrics, his fingers stuttering over the guitar strings.

his gaze catches yours, and he's transfixed by the sparks in your eyes and the slight sheen of sweat trailing down your face. his hands long to reach forth and wipe it away, to trace the sloping curves of your lips, to find out how they'd feel against his.

the band finishes the song, and they're about to play the next song when semi whirls around and whispers a quick change of plan to them. they're good sports, grinning and nodding their consent as they resume their positions. semi hopes you remember, that you see the meaning between the lyrics.

the first note strikes, the drums go, and he sings. he sings a song only _you_ have heard outside of the band, a song that he had written for you once upon a time on a beach when you were 17.

his eyes never leave yours, and the recognition that sparks in your eyes sets him aflame, raw passion slipping through in the notes he sings. semi watches as you mouth the words back at him, and he knows that you got his message. it's with the relief, the joy of this knowledge that fuels the last line of the song, and it rings around the stadium as he ends it.

_"you've got my heart, my soul, all of the things that i own, and there's no way i'd rather it be."_


	17. good luck charm || k. kentarou

The sounds of shoes squeaking against the floor and balls rebounding filled the morning air, drowning out the chirping of birds just waking.

Morning practice for the Aobo Johsia volleyball team had begun, and all the members were present but one, Kyotani Kentaro.

“Where the hell is Kyotani?” Yahaba snarled, glaring at the entrance of the gym as though he would magically appear.

“There there, Yahaba. No need to get angry, I’m sure he’ll show up soon,” Oikawa said nonchalantly as he continued with his warmups.

Just as they were about to begin a match, the said missing member walked in, munching on a sandwich.

“Mad dog-chan, you’re late,” Oikawa wiggled his fingers in greeting.

The wing spiker scowled, crushing the wrapper of the now finished sandwich in his hand. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why were you late?” Yahaba stomps up to him, abandoning the match in favor of interrogating the blonde.

Kyotani ignored his question and shoved past him, shoulders knocking into each other roughly.

Annoyed with his behavior, Yababa grabbed his arm and whirled him around, causing Kyotani to lose his balance and almost tipping over, had it not been for the firm grip Yahaba had.

“Let go of me,” he growled out, baring his teeth.

“Mad dog-chan, what’s this? Are you wearing jewelry now?” Oikawa was suddenly next to him, fingers curling into the necklace that had slipped out from the collar of his shirt when Kyotani nearly fell.

Kyotani froze and the team began to gather around him, the match all but forgotten as their curiosity to find out what was going on took precedence.

“Eh, Kyotani’s wearing a necklace?”

“Let us see it!”

“Don’t be shy, show us more!”

Kyotani flushed, not at the sudden attention placed on him, but the fact that it was focused on the chain around his neck.

Tugging Oikawa’s hand off of it gently, he muttered out a short reply in hopes that the team would leave it alone.

“What did you say Kyotani? We didn’t catch that.” Iwaizumi leaned in towards him.

“I said, Y/n made it for me.” He mumbled out, slightly louder than before.

“Why would she do that?” “Are you blushing?”

Matsukawa and Hanamaki spoke simultaneously, exchanging grins as they did so.

“She said it was a good luck charm,” Kyotani replied, choosing to ignore Hanamaki’s comment.

“Oho, does Mad Dog-chan have a crush on sweet little Y/n?” Oikawa prodded his cheek, quickly retracting his hand when he snarled.

“Oi, what are you doing? You should be practicing right now, not gossiping about your love lives.” Coach Irihata snapped, effectively scattering the group.

Kyotani thanked the coach mentally, tucking the necklace back under his shirt, a light blush still coating his cheeks.

“Oh, Kyotani, tell Y/n that the necklace is lovely.” Coach Irihata smirked at him.

Nevermind, the coach was just as bad as the rest of the volleyball team.


	18. quiet love || t. kei

tsukishima loves quietly. he isn't loud, or extravagant in his affection, nor does he like to admit that he was even being soft. he laughs condescendingly when people bring up the things he's done for you, dismissing them with a sharp grin that promised to rip them to shreds if they didn't shut up right away.

but you know he loves you. every little action he does screams of his feelings, of how much he loves you. you see it in the way he sends you home even though he lives in the opposite direction. he does it under the guise of being forced to by yamaguchi, but you know it was his idea.

you see it in the way he drops a little box of cut fruits on your table, fingers bandaged in the cute plasters you gave him the first time you noticed the cuts. "leftover fruits," he'd claim. but they always taste fresh, and they always happen to be your favourite fruits.

you hear it in the songs he sends you, the playlists he created for you. he plays it off as wanting someone other than him and yamaguchi to appreciate the 'quality' music he listens to, and it certainly was not him professsing his feelings, what a ridiculous notion that was!

you feel his love when he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder, a comforting touch when you're on the verge of losing your mind to something. every little pressure of his fingers on you whispers reassuring words, a silent comfort in the chaos of your mind.

tsukishima loves quietly, and you love that about him.


	19. scribbles || i. hajime

It started when Iwaizumi hit thirteen, little splashes of paint scattered across his body. ‘That was cute,’ he thought. ‘My soulmate’s an artist.’

He didn’t really mind the paint appearing, they were nothing a pack of wet wipes couldn’t fix.

Then drawings began to appear, and he developed a newfound appreciation for art, especially the ones drawn by you.

Little doodles of flowers and vines could often be seen forming across his forearms and he tried his best to preserve them for as long as he could, proudly wearing them like a uniform. People were always teasing him for it, or cooing over how lucky he was to have such a talented soulmate.

Oikawa had the most fun with it, attempting to smudge up the drawings or even scribble a message back to you.

That, of course, never ended well for him.

Iwaizumi continued to admire your works as they progressed from doodles to sketches and even plucked up the courage to write a compliment next to your works occasionally.

_**‘That was beautiful, I’m sorry that I have to wash it off now.’** _

He never expected you to reply, so naturally, he froze up when you did.

_‘I’m glad you like them, I was worried you’d find them annoying.’_

He smiled at your reply. For someone who could draw so well, you sure had a messy scrawl.

_**‘I don’t mind them, they’re amazing.’** _

You hadn’t replied for a solid few minutes, and Iwaizumi worried that he had scared you off. Just as he was about to scribble an apology down, your writing appears once more, now much more shakily than before.

_‘Thank you! I’ll draw them again tomorrow!’_

His smile grew wider and he quickly replied before getting into the shower.

_**‘I look forward to them.’** _

It was now his first year of high school and he had yet to find you, though that didn’t trouble him, as long as he knew you existed, he was happy.

He hadn’t taken into consideration though, the experimentation that would come with entering high school.

Iwaizumi went through his morning routine, and made his way to school, ready to get to volleyball practice. He had expected Oikawa to be obnoxiously cheery as usual, but he certainly was not prepared for the chaos that broke out upon his entrance into the gym.

“Iwa-chan! What are you doing to yourself!” Oikawa’s voice blasted into his ears, aghast.

“New look Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa had snickered, trying his best to support Hanamaki who was currently dying of laughter.

Iwaizumi frowned at their odd behavior, a hand coming up to touch his face self-consciously. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Oikawa cackled at that, doubling over in laughter as he realized that Iwaizumi had no clue what was spread across his face. “Something indeed,” the setter choked out, arms wrapped around his torso.

Scowling at them, he rushed to the locker room and when he caught sight of his face in the mirror, he couldn’t hold back the yelp that escaped, prompting a new round of laughter from his fellow first years that had followed after him.

Iwaizumi gaped, his hands coming up to paw at his face. Why was his skin so orange? What on earth was that black thing that lined his eyes? Was that makeup on him?

“Iwa-chan, you look like an Oompa Loompa!” Oikawa teased, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki lost it, positively howling as they rolled around on the ground, tears streaming down their faces.

“Shut up, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi flushed, turning to shoot him a glare. “Help me get rid of this!”

“What, you don’t want to look like the human embodiment of an orange?” Oikawa mocked him.

“I swear to God, Idiotkawa, I will punch you.” Iwaizumi growled out as he fumbled with the packet of tissues in his hand.

Oikawa chuckled, finally calming down. “You need to use wet wipes to wipe it off, tissues won’t work.”

Iwaizumi let out a grunt of acknowledgment and yanked out his wipes, rubbing them harshly over his face, ignoring the sting of his intense scrubbing. When every bit of makeup had been erased, and his face was left red and raw, he grabbed the marker he usually had on standby.

‘Next time you decide to wear makeup, tell me first so that I can prepare to wipe it off.’

Your reply was instantaneous.

_‘OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY! I DIDN’T THINK THAT MAKEUP WOULD ACTUALLY GO THROUGH!’_

He let out an exasperated sigh. No, of course, you wouldn’t have known.

_**‘It’s fine, just let me know the next time. Oikawa called me an Oompa Loompa for that.’** _

_‘Tell Trashykawa to shut up or I’ll beat him up when I see him and draw on his face.’_

Iwaizumi grinned at that, a soulmate after his own heart.

“Oi, Shittykawa, my soulmate says to shut up or she’ll beat you up and draw on your face next time.”

“You and your soulmate are so mean to me!”

* * *

##  **BONUS**

_‘So, my friends failed to mention to me I got the wrong foundation shade, so you weren’t the only one who looked like an idiot today.’_

_**‘Well, soulmates who look like idiots together, stay together.’** _

_‘That almost made looking like a fool worth it.’_

_**‘Almost?’** _

_‘Yeah, I’m too embarrassed to face everyone in school now. Even Asahi said it was bad, and he never says anything remotely close to mean.’_

_**‘At least you didn’t have to deal with Crappykawa making fun of you the whole day.’** _

_‘Oh, that’s true. No, yeah, you have it way worse.’_

_**‘Thanks for your sympathy.’** _

_‘Anytime, soulmate.’_


	20. untitled || t. kei

it’s a break out of the routine, an unfamiliar familiarity. it’s a face you haven't seen in a while, and it brings about memories you've spent many nights repressing. two years and three months worth of hard work is ruined by a single coincidental moment. and you can't quite say you hate it, not when you’re looking at tsukishima kei once more.

you’re not quite sure who makes the first move, but you’re suddenly seated at a table with him, your fingers fiddling nervously beneath it. you’re not quite sure where to look, and the uncertainty of everything is unsettling.

the air is thick with words of the past, and the pressure of words that begged to be said don't make it any easier to breathe. but neither of you speak, and you’re torn between tearing through the suffocating silence and just enduring it, just like you did at the end of… whatever you were before. you shift around uncomfortably, lifting your eyes to steal a peek at him. a mistake, because you’re now caught in his gaze, and it still has the same stunning effect it did on you.

he still looks the same, the man you had once loved. (love, you correct yourself. you had never really gotten over him. how could you?) his hair’s still the same mess of blond, albeit a little longer now. but you remember how it felt beneath your hands, many hours spent running your hands through it. your fingers flex in remembrance, and you clench them into a tight fist.

your eyes trace the sloping lines of his face, and they fall to his lips. lips that you’ve spent many days and nights memorizing, trying to ink them upon your skin, capture the feeling of them speaking lovely truths.

it all ends up in the same place at the end, where everything started, and where everything ended - his eyes.

for all the years that have passed, his eyes remain the same shade of gold you had spent too much ( _too little_ ) time drowning in. you remember the concrete walls that lay within them, and you remember how it was to be behind it. the view isn't unfamiliar, but it's a jarring sight still. you’re back in the place where you’ve begun, and it takes you only a moment longer to realize something.

it's been two years and three months, and he still looks at you the same.


End file.
